Wait Wait Wait
by thecouchcarrot
Summary: Stand-alone sequel to "Damn Straight." Dean/Cas, slight AU, Human!Cas. Dean and Cas have been together for a few weeks now, and Sam discovers that they still haven't done the deed. So what's the hold up? Now Complete. Ch4:Sam's motel neighbors are noisy.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:_ So, this is the sequel to my previous fic, "Damn Straight," set about three weeks after its end. Reading that one first helps, but it's not really necessary. All you need to know is that Cas is human, Cas and Dean are together, neither has said the L word (but c'mon, they are soooo smitten), and Sam was very nearly witness to their first drunken hookup (but then Cas puked and killed the mood, so. That didn't work out). It's slightly AU, basically the canon world if, after all the stuff with the horsemen went down, it had taken Team Free Will weeks to months to find the devil instead of a couple days. The apocalypse is still in motion but they're basically stuck doing nothing until Lucifer is located. _

_Also, since I didn't want my universe to be Downer City, Sam hasn't come up with his plan yet. The threat of death hovers over the whole gang, but it's the general oppressive doom that the Winchesters are accustomed to. _

_Finally, everyone who reviews gets their very own Castiel™ for the limited time offer of absolutely free! If you review now, we'll throw in this set of steak knives and the Future Fun Times Castiel™ as seen in "The End",_ totally free!_*_

_*Psychotropic drugs not included. Warning: Future Fun Times Castiel™ is extremely sarcastic. Use with caution. _

_And now, on with the show. _

* * *

The night was cold and dark, the pitch blackness of the alleyway uninterrupted by streetlamps. _Only the Winchesters would be stuck on stakeout during a city-wide power outage,_ Dean reflected bitterly. Luckily, the chances that they would encounter anything tonight were slim; they'd killed the weird soul-sucker thing that had been stalking the lady, and now they were just spending the night behind her apartment building for safety's sake. Just to make sure. Dean had insisted on it.

Sam wiggled around in the backseat, trying to get comfortable. It was his turn to sleep, but he was having a hard time of it. "The seat is too short to really stretch out," he complained. "I might as well just sit up front."

Dean sipped his coffee. "You're right. It was kinda cramped yesterday when Cas and I were doin' it back there."

A beat of silence filled the car as his words sunk in.

Sam was flailing and scrabbling to climb over the seat in an instant, crying "_Augh, Son of a bitch you sick bastards I sleep back here that is just sick!" _

Dean laughed heartily and then took pity on him, mostly because one of Sam's huge panicking limbs was going to whack him in the head. "I'm just kidding, Sammy." Which was true – he and Cas hadn't done it in the Impala. Of course, that didn't mean the back seat was exactly… virginal. But Sammy didn't need to worry his pretty little head about that.

Sam had already maneuvered into the passenger seat, and he glowered. "Not funny, Dean."

"_Very_ funny," Dean corrected, smirking. "You're such a friggin' baby. We sleep in cockroach-infested dive motels and you're worried about a little angel sweat."

"It's not sweat I'm worried about," Sam muttered darkly. He huffed and zipped up his jacket, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. "Just do me a favor, alright, and keep the bedroom antics to the motel. I get that you guys are like rabbits, but have a little human decency."

Dean just drank his coffee and ignored him. He wasn't making any promises. As soon as he and Cas started having sex, they were gonna do it _everywhere_.

Sam, however, read something into his silence. He stared at Dean, suspicion growing on his face. "You've got to be kidding me."

Dean glanced askance at him. Sometimes his brother made absolutely no sense. "What?"

"You guys haven't had _sex?_" he asked, incredulous.

Dean could feel his entire face flush. Damn his traitorous capillaries. "'Course we have! Besides, it's none of your goddamn business!" he barked hotly. "Get your own love life, asshole!"

"Oh my god, it's _true_," Sam crowed. "Holy crap, Dean, how is this possible?"

"Shut up," he snarled.

"No, seriously, how is this possible?" Sam persisted. "That first night, dude, you guys were about to – do the deed right in front of me. And you've been getting your own room ever since. It's been what, three weeks. So what's the, uh, hold up?"

Dean thrust his trademark "hang on a goddamn minute" pointer finger at Sam. "First of all, we were _plastered_," he ranted. "Things are a little different in the light of freakin' day, alright? And second of all, you _know _Cas is new to this. So _excuuuuse me_ for taking things a little freakin' slow."

That shut Sam up. Ever since Cas had turned human, Sam had become a big ol' softy where the former angel was concerned. The dude was the king of empathy, and Cas had perfected the big-blue-puppydog-eyes look, so when Dean said Cas wasn't ready he knew Sam would buy it hook, line and sinker.

And it was true, mostly. It had started out very true. The first few times he and Cas had gotten hot and heavy, he'd seen this ridiculously terrified look on Cas's face, like he was standing in front of a firing squad. Dean had seen the same look the one time he took him to a brothel. It was Cas in the face of the one thing in the known universe that made him sweat bullets: sex. So Dean would murmur some calming, encouraging words and back off a little. He wasn't going to press the issue because hell, Dean was nothing if not a considerate lover. And if he remembered how eager the dude had been while intoxicated and had briefly considered taking advantage of that fact, at least he hadn't gone through with it. Again, Dean was considerate, and liquoring him up to bang him seemed… mildly unconscionable. This was Cas, not some tramp in a backwoods bar, and the rules were different now.

But lately, Cas had been less and less nervous. In fact, lately he'd been all over Dean every spare minute they got alone. He knew Cas was trying to give him the green light to take things a little farther, but something kept holding Dean back. He'd eventually decided he would let Cas make that move, if he really wanted it. He wanted it to be Cas's choice, not just Cas letting him do what he wanted.

It was times like these that Dean sort of wished Cas was a girl, because with girls Dean knew exactly what to do. There were a finite series of steps one took to get in bed with a woman, and once you were there, your job was fairly straightforward. Dean had a formidable amount of experience with chicks and it was all going to be wasted on Cas because Cas was _man_ and it was a whole new ballgame, buddy, getting off another man. The only guideline Dean had was what _he_ liked, and he hoped fervently that his tastes were somewhat similar to Cas's, or else they were going to be up shit creek without a paddle.

But nobody was perfect the first time, right? And Cas didn't have experience with anybody, period, so they'd fumble through it together. And if it was even half as awesome as the incredible make-out sessions they'd had, it would be worth all the awkwardness and embarrassment. Hopefully.

_It had better_, Dean thought, biting back a smirk. _I like Cas, but I really don't want to be celibate for the rest of my life. _

_That_ thought shook him out of his reverie. _Rest of my life? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Christ, Dean, get ahold of yourself._ _Besides, the rest of your life might only be a few weeks._

He concentrated on staring into the black night beyond the windshield, telling himself that his mental choice of words meant nothing.

…..

The stakeout turned out to be fruitless, which was a good thing, and the brothers celebrated by sleeping away the entire next afternoon; with this soul sucker operating at night, neither of them had slept more than three hours at a time the whole week. Before the stakeout they had sent Cas to dig up some new leads on the devil, and he was out when they returned. Dean stumbled into the room he shared with Cas and fell into bed, only bothering to kick off his shoes before pulling the covers over himself and falling dead to the world.

When he woke up, a warm arm was draped around his midsection and he could feel Cas's breath on the back of his neck. He smiled. It reminded him of the first time he'd woken up next to Cas.

Well, "next to" was a relative term. Dean had woken up to find his limbs twined tightly around the former angel like the dude was his favorite teddy bear. In that first groggy, hungover split second he didn't remember how he got there, and his entire body had tensed up, a panicky mantra running through his head: _Shit I got drunk and I fucked Cas and now I've fucked things up with Cas forever shit shit shit_. And then he'd blinked, remembered, and relaxed, enjoying the moment.

And he did enjoy it. Now, Dean and Cas weren't the PDA type. If you saw them on the street, you wouldn't know they were anything more than good friends. They didn't get touchy-feely in public for a multitude of reasons: A) That shit was private. B) They had a job to do, and the job came first. C) A lot of their jobs were in rural areas, where folks were less… open minded. D) It bothered Sam. To which Dean would have just told Sam to grow a pair and deal, but Cas was uncomfortable with the idea of making Sam uncomfortable, so Dean dealt instead.

So when they were out and about, Dean and Cas didn't so much as hold hands. But when they got alone… they were big-time touchers. Just about any bodily contact would do, really. An arm around the shoulder while watching TV, playing footsie while cleaning guns, curling together on the bed and falling asleep. Sam would have been shocked if he knew just how much Dean enjoyed cuddling Cas, mostly because Dean rarely even hugged anybody else.

To which Dean would reply, "Cas isn't anybody else."

And now, he woke up with Cas in his bed and it warmed his heart. For the moment, life was sweet and pure and good. He placed his hand over Cas's and wove their fingers together, not caring how cheesy and girly it looked because Cas didn't know it looked cheesy and girly. That was the great thing about Cas; whatever quirky things Dean did, Cas accepted, because he didn't have a point of reference for what normal was. To him, it was perfectly normal to sing to your car when you washed it (Dean said he was just singing to occupy himself, but secretly he really was crooning to his baby) or wash down your pancakes with Jack Daniels. Normal was Dean.

Cas stretched and nuzzled his face into Dean's neck. "You slept a long time," he mumbled, his lips brushing against Dean's skin. Dean loved the way his voice sounded when he woke up, all gravelly and hoarse.

"Yeah, well, I'm awake now." Dean rolled over and grinned at the sight. Cas's black hair was all mussed up, sticking every which way, his eyes squinty and his cheek pink where he had been sleeping on it. It was freaking cute. "I see you climbed right in with me. Ya miss me or something?"

"No," Cas answered honestly. "It was only one night, Dean."

"I'm just teasing," Dean replied, chuckling. Leave it to Cas to be painfully obtuse.

"I got into bed because I was tired," Cas explained.

"Mmhmm," Dean agreed readily.

Cas frowned a little, obviously picking up on Dean's facetious tone. "And you were warm," he continued.

"Yep."

Cas cocked his head, looking puzzled. "And… I like sleeping next to you?" he asked hesistantly.

"Aaaaand _there _it is," Dean announced, ruffling Cas's head in a way that was sure to annoy him. "Was that so hard?"

Cas glared and pushed his hair back. It only made things worse.

Dean laughed and kissed his forehead. "Oh, relax."

Cas gave him a reproachful look. "You can't get away with things just by kissing me."

Dean's smile grew, and he felt positively wicked. "Wanna bet?"

…..

Fifteen minutes later, things were getting hot and heavy. Dean ground his hips against Cas's and nipped along the underside of his jaw, his blood boiling in his veins and his heart going way too fast. As in, abnormally fast. Almost painfully fast.

"_Deaaan_," Cas moaned, and that almost finished him right there. "_Dean_." And Dean knew what he was asking, knew what he was pleading for but he wasn't going to – he couldn't, it had to be Cas, Cas had to make the move, it had to be him –

And then he felt Cas's hand drag down his bare chest and slide into his jeans, and it was happening. Cas was making his move. Cas kissed his way down Dean's body, lowering himself to the level of Dean's waist, and he fumbled at the button, tugging at the zipper. _Holy shit,_ Dean thought, something hot and tightly wound uncoiling in his belly. His throat tightened and his heart was racing and it was getting hard to breathe. _This is happening. This is happening. _

And all of the sudden Dean was grabbing Cas's wrist, gasping "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait."

He'd been lying to himself. It wasn't Cas who wasn't ready.

Cas gazed at him, wide-eyed and concerned, still trying to catch his breath. "Dean…? I thought you… Is something wrong?"

Dean could hear the unasked question. _Did I do something wrong? _"Not your fault," Dean panted, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing he could be anyone but his pansy-ass self. Cas didn't deserve this. "I want this, Cas, I want you." He did. He wanted Cas so bad he could cry with frustration right now. "But I've never, I've never been with a man before and I – I don't think I can do it."

Cas simply gazed at him and asked the obvious. "Why not?"

He should have said everything right then. He should have let all that he was feeling spill out of him like a torrential flood. _I can't because I've spent my whole life thinking I was straight, and straight guys don't touch other guys' junk, and now you've come along and even though I'm totally into you I still feel like the same guy, the straight guy, and straight guys don't do that, and if _I_ do that then it means I'm not straight, once and for all, end of story, and that's a problem for me. For so long my sexuality has been part of my identity and if I'm not Dean Winchester the ladies' man then I don't know who I am and all the sudden I find myself defining myself through you, the way I feel about you, just the way my appetite for women used to define me, making you a part of what makes me _me_ and I can't do that, Cas, I cannot do that because someday you're going to leave me just like everybody else I've ever loved and then I'll be nobody, I'll have nothing, not even myself anymore, and _that's _why I can't do _this_: because the one thing in this nightmarish, apocalyptic world that truly scares me is the idea of losing myself in you._

_And planes. Planes still scare the shit out of me. _

But all of that was tumbling around inside Dean's head, wordless and formless and difficult for him to explain, horribly revealing and weak and personal, and so instead, he just answered lamely, "Because… I can't."

Cas's face was a statue carved from stone, a blank slate. But his eyes – goddamn, his eyes. They were hurt, and confused, and begging Dean for something, anything.

Dean pulled Cas up and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight and wishing he could be the man Cas deserved. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't look like that. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Dean." The warmth and understanding in Cas's voice nearly killed him. Then he heard Cas clear his throat, a sure sign that he was about to make a joke. "It's not the end of the world."

That made Dean laugh, if a little bitterly, and pulled back to look at Cas's face. "You're getting quite a sense of humor."

Cas smiled one of his quiet, reserved smiles, and kissed him.

Dean kissed him back, and decided then and there that he was going to get over this – mental block, whatever it was, and give Cas the orgasm of his life and then do it over and over again until Cas lost all ability to function. Because damn it, Cas was clearly a freaking _saint _and if he wasn't getting his reward in heaven then Dean had to make sure he got his reward here on earth, no matter what it took, no matter how tough or difficult it might be for Dean.

He was gonna fuck Cas if killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:_ Aw, you guys! I was worried that if I wrote a sequel, nobody would bother reading it. You guys proved me wrong; thanks so much for all your kind reviews. Every time you review, a baby kitten will be cuddled in your honor. And, of course, each of you gets a Cas as promised. That offer still stands, folks! Review and get your very own Castiel absolutely free._

_This next chapter I actually really struggled with. I had a good picture of where this story started, and I know where I want it to end, but right now I'm in the treacherous middle and things start to get a little hazy. I kept cutting and pasting and hammering and sawing at this thing until I ended up with something I was happy with. So, let me know in the comments if you like how this chapter turned out. If you don't like it, please review and let me know what bothered you. That way, I can take your advice and keep it in mind for the following chapters._

_And now, the thing that you've all been waiting for: Chapter 2!_

* * *

Sam knew that Dean's line about Cas being the reason they were taking it slow was a bunch of bullshit. Why? Because he'd _seen _the way Cas was looking at Dean lately, like a starving orphan staring in the window of an all-you-can-eat buffet. "_New to this stuff" my ass_. Sam simply chose not to call Dean out on it, knowing he'd never cop to the real reason during the stakeout anyway.

It was that hungry look, in fact, that had led Sam to think they were going at it constantly. He figured it was a honeymoon phase and Cas was just discovering the joys of being human. This new development threw a monkey wrench into all his understanding of Castiel and Dean's relationship.

The way it was _supposed_ to work was that Dean and Cas would have this passionate, crazy fling in the chaotic madness of the apocalypse, and it would be clear to everyone that they were madly in love but Dean would write it off as really great sex, soothing his inner macho man, until the absolute end of the world. Then, just as everyone was about to die, he and Cas would profess their love. If, by some miracle, they both made it out alive, they'd settle down and get married or whatever and adopt a dozen children and a dog. That was what was _supposed _to be going on.

If Dean and Cas weren't having sex, that was a bad sign. The sex was supposed to distract Dean from the fact that he was being monogamous, and would keep him from realizing that he would probably never nail another chick for the foreseeable future. No sex meant there was a really good chance that Dean was psyching himself out and preparing to royally fuck up everything. Dean couldn't cut and run on this one, because even though Cas was human now, he still knew a thing or two about the apocalypse and they needed him. If Dean panicked and jerked Cas around, he was jerking around the fate of humanity.

And besides that, Sam _liked_ the guy. He liked how happy he made Dean. It made _Sam_ happy to see how much Castiel cared about Dean. Bobby even seemed pretty pleased; he gave them hell about it, but it was affectionate hell. All across the board, Dean plus Cas was a good thing. The problem was that Dean was known to be a complete rake with no experience in actual relationships. Then there was his wry cynicism, leading him to believe that nothing good ever lasts, coupled with his emotional combat technique of dumping them before they could dump you. In short, odds were in favor of Dean doing something really, really stupid and ruining all his chances at a happy, normal-ish life.

Sam knew what he had to do. This went beyond being the best brother in the world, and into the territory of being the best _person_ in the world. He had to find out why his brother and his former angel weren't banging, and then fix it so they could bang to their heart's content.

_Yeah, I had better get a damn medal for this. _

So when the following evening Sam left his motel room only to find Castiel leaning on the railing of the balcony walkway, squinting wistfully at the sunset, he saw an opportunity. "Hey Cas."

Castiel started and turned to him.

"Dean awake?" Sam asked.

Cas shook his head. "He's sleeping again."

"Why don't you come have dinner with me?"

He considered for a moment, and then gazed towards his motel room. "Dean will be hungry when wakes up," he hedged.

"We'll bring him back something. C'mon." Sam smiled encouragingly, turning on the innocent charm that had gained the trust of so many strangers over the years.

Twenty minutes later they were seated in a diner, Cas staring intently at the menu. Cas took food so seriously that Sam thought he didn't actually enjoy eating. He simply tried to find the most nutritional food and shove it down his throat as quickly as possible. It was Dean who had to goad him into trying new things, tasting desserts and sampling appetizers.

_Let's see, how should I start?_ Sam thought sardonically. _Hey Castiel, remember me? That's right, I'm the recovering demon-blood addict who started the apocalypse. So, why aren't you and my brother boinking each other's brains out? _

Sam cleared his throat, and prepared to have the most awkward conversation of his life. "So, how are things?" he began.

Castiel didn't take his eyes off the menu. "As well as can be expected."

"So you and Dean are…" Sam raised his eyebrows and lowered his chin. "Good?"

That got Cas to look up. He frowned ever so slightly. "Yes," he answered slowly. "Are you trying to ask me something without asking me explicitly?"

Sam groaned inwardly and rubbed his temple. _Good job, Mr. Smooth_. "I just. I was talking to Dean the other day, and he didn't exactly tell me, but." _Okay, just get it out_. "Iknowyouguysaren'thavingsex," he blurted.

Castiel looked surprised, but he didn't look like he was going to deny it.

"And I was wondering if that was your idea or if Dean is – pushing you away," Sam finished.

Cas's gaze darkened, and he pressed his lips together. "Dean can't know that we're talking about this."

"Dude, _I'm _not gonna tell him!" Sam assured.

Cas exhaled heavily through his nose, his eyes fixing on his napkin. "This afternoon, I tried to… initiate sex with him."

Sam tried his hardest not to look like he thought that was totally gross, adopting a look of concerned attentiveness.

"He – he stopped me, and told me he couldn't." A faint pink tinge was creeping up Cas's cheeks. "And then… he held me, so tightly…" He glanced up at Sam, searching for the right words. "I could _feel _it, Sam. He was… frightened. I don't know why, but I do know that he's not trying to push me away. I believe that he needs me to simply stand by him right now, and that's what I plan to do. He was very patient with me when I was uncertain and afraid; the least I can do is return the favor. So yes, Dean and I are 'good'."

Sam gaped at Cas, and then realized what he was doing and quickly shut his mouth. Dean had no idea how unbelievably lucky he was. Sam was _definitely _not going to let him screw this up now; there was no way he was ever going to find somebody who loved and understood him as well as Castiel clearly did.

Unfortunately, he still only had a vague hunch about what Dean's mental defect might be.

The waitress came over then, putting a damper on the conversation. "You boys ready to order?"

…..

The next phase of Sam's plan was to corner Dean at some point and force some honesty out of him. He'd done it before, and he could do it again. It would take poking and prodding and nagging and waiting, but it was doable. He hadn't planned on Dean cornering _him._

After Dean woke up, they had decided go get a celebratory drink for a job well done; Castiel had begged off, being vague at first but then finally admitting he wanted to read a book he'd found at the library called _Slaughterhouse-Five._ Dean had teased him both for being a nerd and for seeking out the only author Dean had ever admitted to having read, but Cas would not be dissuaded.

So Sam and Dean had walked to the tavern, and as soon as they got a seat at the bar, Dean had started throwing back shots like they were going out of style. Sam, who was nursing a light beer, looked on in bemused awe.

"Might wanna slow down there, Slick. _My_ liver is hurting just watching," Sam cautioned, only half-teasing.

Dean threw him a dark look and muttered, "Sorry, but I gotta be loaded before we can have this conversation."

"Uh…. what conversation?" Sam asked, feeling like he was missing something here.

Dean sighed and dragged his hand down his face. "Look, Sammy. I ain't enjoyin' this, but I got no one else to talk to." He snorted. "I'm certainly not gonna take this to _Bobby_. And I have to talk to somebody about this. I owe it to Cas. So just – hear me out."

Sam blinked. This was _not _what he expected at all. "I'm listening."

"I lied, yesterday, when I said we were taking it slow for Cas's benefit," he admitted, hunkered down over the bar and fiddling with the empty shot glasses. "As it turns out, I've got some kind of – hang-up about. You know. Doin' it with another dude." His cheeks were flaming red, and not just from the booze. He rubbed his jaw, shook his head and huffed a laugh, as though he couldn't believe he was saying this. "Even though I really want to."

Sam was more than a little tickled by Dean's discomfort, and knew Dean would have teased him mercilessly had their positions been reversed, but he also knew that he was a bigger man than Dean (both figuratively and literally). Sam, unlike Dean, wasn't a complete insensitive jerk. He knew it had taken a lot for Dean to open up like this, and on his own volition no less. So, he took the high road and simply nodded. "I had kind of figured something like that."

Dean looked up in surprise.

"Look, Dean, I see the way Cas is with you," Sam said. "The guy is crazy about you, man. You, you are like the alpha and omega to him – it all starts and ends with you. God, Dean, if you could see the way he looks when he talks about you. You're not gonna find another person like him."

"I know!" Dean exclaimed. "Christ, you think I don't realize what an asshole this makes me? It's totally unfair that Cas has to deal with all my bullshit baggage. Cas deserves – Cas deserves a nice, pretty young yoga instructor. One who is very sweet, and very limber, and keeps the Kama Sutra on her night stand. But instead, he ended up with me, and for the love of God – I'm _trying_, Sam." The desperation was visible in Dean's face, and audible in his voice. "But I just – I freak. I don't know why _kissing_ a dude doesn't freak me out but fucking one does, but for some reason, it's like – the point of no return. I can't return to straight if I do it. It's like, I'm really sealing the deal here. And I can't."

Sam thought he understood what Dean's mental defect was now, and he also knew that it went deeper than Dean thought. He tried to think of a good way to phrase his words. After mulling it over a second, he began carefully. "Dean. I think this has less to do with dudes, and more to do with Cas."

Dean stared at him, cocked his head, squinted, and demanded, "What?"

"I don't think you're really worried about sealing the deal on your sexuality," Sam explained. "I think deep down, you're really worried about sealing the deal with _Cas_. You love him, Dean, I know you do."

Dean didn't protest, but simply looked away.

"And usually with you, the sex comes first and the feelings come later," Sam continued. "But now, you've waited so long and Cas is a virgin and suddenly, having sex with him has become laden with all this – this _meaning _and anticipation and emotion. You and Cas are so close, but there's this _one thing_ you haven't shared, _one thing_ that keeps you from owning each other completely and now it's become the final frontier, the last bastion of your pretense that Castiel is someone you could walk away from and still be whole."

Dean started those last few words, his eyes wide and shocked. "_Dude_," he uttered, low and amazed. "That is _freaky_. It's like you reached into my head and shhhhhlrp –" He made a hand gesture that Sam took to be someone siphoning his thoughts – "and then you made it make _sense_."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's almost as if you've been drinking too much. I'm not a mind reader, dude, I just know you really well. Seriously, though, do you get it now?"

Dean furrowed his brows. "Yes. I think."

"You're afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of letting Cas get close enough to hurt you. But that's what love is _about_!" Sam ran a hand through his hair and exhaled in frustration. "Love is about being vulnerable to somebody else, letting them have all of you and _trusting_ them not to hurt you. Love is about sharing your life with them so completely that it gets difficult to tell where they start and you end." Sam was just buzzed enough to start thinking of Jessica and feel his throat tighten up, a tickling behind his eyes. "Love is about getting so close to someone that you feel incomplete without them, like there's a big gaping hole in your chest that nothing else can fill."

Dean gazed at Sam, his face serious and unreadable. "Then tell me, Sam," he asked quietly, "Is it worth it?" He paused, his eyes boring into Sam's. "Is it worth being empty?"

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, his gaze never faltering. "Always."

Dean pursed his lips, and finally looked down, twirling the empty glass in his hand. Then he flagged down the bartender. "Can we get a few shots of Jack over here?" he called. "We're not nearly drunk enough."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _Thank you,_ thank you_ everyone who reviewed. You've been immensely helpful and supportive, and I truly appreciate it. I've worked super extra hard on this story because I only want to give you guys the very best fic I can write. Hopefully, my very best is good enough. :P As promised, you each get your own Castiel, and _this_ one will sing and dance showtunes upon request. _

Castiel/N: _I will do no such thing._

A/N: _What? Why not? Pleeease? You're just so_ cute!

Castiel/N: _I will not. You're trying my patience._

A/N: _Okay, so he won't sing and dance. But he _will_ sulk and glower adorably! Also, warning for this chapter: it contains dangerously high levels of lovey-dovey. Also, it contains references to "Damn Straight," specifically Ch.4. It's not going to ruin your understanding of the chapter if you haven't read it, you just won't get the joke. Oh, and next, this is important. _

_This story is rated T. Yes, I drop some F-bombs, but no more than two or three per chapter. SO, I'll warn you ahead of time that the smut ain't happenin'. Innuendo and suggestive actions, yes. Explicit blow-by-blows, no. This is a personal choice of mine because while I enjoy reading about Dean/Cas sexy times, I just don't feel confident about writing that stuff in detail. I don't want to lead you on, making you think the smut is just around the corner, and then disappoint you. _

_Finally - and then I'll shut up, I swear - if you think Cas is acting out of character towards the second half of the chapter, it's because he's _feeling_ out of character. I wanted to portray how he's learning to adjust to the emotional rollercoaster that is the human experience. Let me know if it comes across well, or if it just seems like he's OOC. _

_And now, the chapter!_

_P.S. - The characters mention Slaughterhouse-Five. For the record, I love that book. Vonnegut is awesome.  
_

* * *

Castiel was sitting on his side of the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs crossed in front of him. He closed his book and checked the clock. It had been hours since Dean and Sam had left. He wondered at what point it was appropriate to become worried.

_I'll wait another hour,_ he decided. _Then I'll become worried._

He considered the circumstances. They weren't on a job, so if the brothers never returned to the motel they had probably been mugged and left for dead in a ditch or alleyway. The Impala was still parked at the motel, but Castiel didn't know how to operate the vehicle; he drew up a mental map of the small town in his mind and deliberated the length of time it would take to canvas it on foot. They would probably need medical attention, but surely there was some hospital or clinic nearby. If they couldn't be found in the streets or gutters, then they'd likely been kidnapped by either angels or demons, in which case Castiel would have to contact Bobby for back up. He should probably charge his phone in the spare hour he had until he became worried.

He had a suspicion that he was already worrying.

Just then, Dean stumbled in the door, clearly inebriated. Relief coursed through Castiel. "'Lo," Dean greeted him, his voice slurring slightly. He kicked off his shoes and belly-flopped onto the bed. "How far'd you get in the book?"

"I finished it."

"Whoa, dude, you are - scary fast." Then Dean's face sank into his pillow, and he asked a muffled question that Castiel couldn't make out.

"I can't hear you, Dean."

He turned his head to face Castiel. "Did you like it?"

Castiel considered the question carefully. "It was… confusing. I don't know enough about the intricacies of your wars."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, okay. But did you like it?"

"I don't think so," Castiel admitted.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. "Someday I'll 'splain it to you, when the 'pocalyse is done," he mumbled. "Then you'll like it."

Castiel didn't refute him. Dean was stubborn, especially when intoxicated. It was easiest to tacitly agree with him, and then allow him to forget his words the following morning.

"Then we'll freakin' – visit Elvis's grave," Dean declared, propping himself up on his forearms. "Make sure his bones are in there, once and for all, take pictures and sell 'em for a million bucks. Have it made. Yeah. It'll probably be a friggin' pain in the ass, bet they've got tons of security and shit around his grave." He inched himself closer to Castiel, enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "We're gonna dig up Elvis, Cas. After the end of the world." He sighed and flung an arm around Castiel's legs. "C'mere," he grunted, tugging on Castiel. "Get down here where I am."

Castiel smiled inwardly. He knew what Dean was after. He obediently scooted down the bed and laid on his back, and Dean rested his head on Castiel's chest, wrapping his arms around him possessively. Castiel carded his fingers through Dean's hair and stroked his scalp, loving the way Dean sighed at his touch and snuggled into his torso. When he was drunk, Dean was childish and simple; his needs were easy to attend to, and he was unembarrassed to display them. Right now, he needed companionship, and Castiel was happy to provide it.

The last time Dean was this drunk, he and Castiel had nearly had sex. Castiel still blushed when he recalled the moment that Sam leapt up and interrupted them. It wasn't until after he'd sobered up that Dean had developed reservations about physical intimacy. Castiel briefly wondered if he should try and initiate something now, while Dean was similarly intoxicated. Perhaps he would be able to overcome his fears with the help of some liquid courage.

But no. Somehow, it didn't seem right. Even though Dean would probably reciprocate whole-heartedly, it seemed like a violation – at the very least, a violation of his trust. Castiel didn't ever want to betray Dean's trust.

Dean breathed loudly through his mouth and absently traced patterns on Castiel's arm with his fingertips. An overwhelming wave of affection washed over Castiel, and he pressed his lips to Dean's head. _I love you,_ he wanted to say. _I don't know what you're afraid of, but_ _don't be afraid. I'll always love you._

But he didn't.

Castiel knew that if he told Dean he loved him now, Dean would feel obligated to say it back, and Castiel would rather he didn't say anything at all than lie. No, he planned to tell Dean somewhere crowded, perhaps a bar, where there would be plenty of distractions and possible escapes if things should go badly. He honestly didn't know how Dean would react. He knew the hunter had feelings for him, but Dean was so wary of labels and commitments…

Dean interrupted his ruminations with a soft whisper. "Cas," he began, "when this all over, when this end of the world all shakes out, what're you gonna do?"

Castiel frowned slightly. "I'm not sure," he answered slowly. "I hadn't given it much thought. The odds are that I won't survive the apocalypse."

Dean's grip on him tightened. "But you might."

"Yes," Castiel conceded. "If I do, then… I suppose I'll go wherever you're going."

Dean craned his head to look up at him and grinned. "Really? You mean it?" The corners of his eyes crinkled. "You'll come dig up Elvis with me an' Sammy?"

Castiel smiled. "Of course, Dean. I – care about you. I want to be wherever you are."

"Good." Dean's fingers played nervously with the hem of Castiel's t-shirt. "Cuz I was just sayin' that before, just like a nice idea, but I wanna do it for real if you wanna do it and I'm sorry I got drunk Cas cuz there's a lot I wanna tell you but I think I should be sober so maybe tomorrow."

Castiel nodded. "Alright."

Dean was silent for a moment. "I care 'bout you too, Cas."

Castiel's heart squeezed painfully. "I know."

"Cas?" Dean whispered.

"Yes?"

"Couldja rub my head again?" he asked. "I really like that."

…..

Another day, another town, another run-down motel. This time, they were lucky enough to get rooms adjacent to each other, instead of down the hall. After a day of driving, they were eager to shake out their legs and walk around the block to the nearest diner.

Dean ate less than his usual prodigious amount, citing his hangover. Of course, he had plenty of appetite for dessert.

"Mandy," he proclaimed, noting the young waitress's nametag, "bring us three slices of your finest pie."

"We're out of pie," she replied.

Dean's eyes bugged out, and Sam snickered. "Out of – how can you be out of pie?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "All I know is that we're out."

Dean's nostrils flared, and then his face underwent an amazing transformation. In an instant he went from frustrated and incredulous to cool, collected, and strangely focused. He smiled a knowing, crooked smile at the waitress, as if they were sharing a private joke.

Castiel glanced at Sam, wondering if he was seeing this as well. Sam was rolling his eyes.

"Listen, _Mandy_," Dean drawled. "I know I'm kind of asking a favor here, but…" He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice, creating the illusion of intimacy. "Me and the boys here have had a long, hard day. If you could just check in the back, make sure you're _really _out…" His eyes flickered down to her blouse and back up to her face, and his smirk widened slowly. "I'd be eternally grateful."

Something black and nauseous roiled in Castiel's gut.

Mandy's cheeks were pink, and she tittered nervously. "I – I could do that."

He winked. "Thanks, sweetheart."

She giggled and flounced away, and Castiel wished she'd never been born.

"God, Dean, you're a real piece of work," Sam accused.

"What? I want some goddamn pie," Dean defended.

"That girl is probably seventeen. _Maybe._" Sam snorted. "Sick and wrong, dude, _sick_ and _wrong_."

"Oh, gimme a break. I didn't _do_ anything," Dean protested. "And I'm gonna leave her a nice tip. All I did was… turn on the Winchester charm." Suddenly, he glanced at Castiel and started. "Dude, are you okay?"

"No," Castiel muttered.

"You're practically green. What's wrong, Cas?" Dean asked, all attentive concern. As if he hadn't been undressing that girl with his eyes ten seconds earlier.

"I don't like it when you talk to her like that," Castiel growled, finding himself ridiculously irritated. "It makes my stomach hurt. I think we should leave."

Sam rubbed a hand over his face, looking suspiciously as if he were hiding a smile. Castiel failed to see what was so amusing about the situation.

Dean, on the other hand, looked surprised and chagrined. "Oh, shi – Cas." He reached over the table and placed his hand over Castiel's clenched fist. "I didn't even think. Dude, I'm sorry. Look, as soon as we get some pie –"

"I don't want _pie_," Castiel snarled, wrenching his hand out from under Dean's. "I never want _pie_. You should stop trying to get me to like your fucking PIE." And with that he stood up and stormed out of the diner, leaving two stunned Winchesters in his wake.

He strode back towards the motel, furious and not even certain why he was furious, except that he'd _told _Dean that he didn't want him to talk to the waitress – _Mandy_, he mentally spat – and all Dean could think about was his food, and if Castiel didn't rank higher than food for Dean then he was wasting his time, wasn't he, waiting around for Dean. Dean didn't care that it killed him to sit there and watch so long as Dean got what Dean wanted. Castiel was vaguely aware that he was overreacting, but like most humans, his irrational feelings overrode his logical sense. Dean had _said_ he was only interested in getting the pie. That was all that should matter. But the way he'd looked that girl up and down, as if he would be perfectly willing to take her out back and show her a good time, do the things with her that he wouldn't – couldn't – do with Castiel… It made Castiel ill, as if he were being poisoned from the inside out. Already the flame of his ire was burning down, accompanied by a cold, gnawing regret. _Why am I so affected by his behavior? Have I no discipline or self-restraint? Two years ago, a tantrum like would have been unimaginable. Even _feeling_ like that would have been unimaginable. I've never been this out-of-control in my entire existence._

Heavy footsteps fell behind him and slowed as they caught up with him. "Cas! Wait!" Dean grabbed him by the arm and spun him around, breathing heavily. "Don't do this. I'm sorry, okay? I'm new to this whole thing –"

"So am I!" Castiel exclaimed. "I'm new to _everything,_ Dean_. _And half the time I don't know what's happening to me, I get swept up in these – trivial, stupid emotions like a small child and you don't seem to appreciate, _Dean_, how difficult it is for me. I'm always hungry or cold or hot or tired, if it's not one thing with this human body it's another, and _I can't do it without you_." His own voice sounded foreign in his ears, so broken and desperate, and his eyes burned. "I need you, Dean. I love you, so much, and I – I'm sorry that I got so upset, I didn't mean to, but if you, if you don't love me more than _pie_ then I don't know what I'll–"

"Cas," Dean whispered hoarsely, eyes shining. "Shut up for a minute."

Castiel snapped his mouth shut.

"You mean that?" he breathed. "You love me?"

Castiel didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. He just stared at Dean, pleading with him silently. _You know I do. Please don't tell me not to. _

And suddenly Dean broke into a wide, blinding grin. "Cas, you idiot."

Castiel blinked.

His green eyes were jubilant and bright, and he took Castiel by the shoulders. "Of course I love you more than pie. I love you more than anything. I was gonna tell you tonight, make it all special and shit, but –" He let out a huff of laughter. "You've forced my hand."

Castiel grasped the lapel of Dean's jacket, needing something, _anything_ to ground him and keep him from floating away. "You love me too?"

"Yes." And his grin faded, replaced by an earnest, searing gaze that pierced right through Castiel. "I love you. It scares the hell out of me, but I love you, and I want to _make_ love to you, and I'm yours, only yours." His adam's apple bobbed. "For as long as you'll have me."

"Then forever." Castiel kissed him ardently, not caring that it was broad daylight next to a busy road. Dean kissed back, forceful and confident, his relief palpable.

They broke apart, and Dean leaned forward, brushing his lips against Castiel's ear. "Let's get out of here," he murmured.

Castiel knew the appropriate response. "Are you propositioning me?"

Dean pulled back. He looked into Castiel's eyes, his own dark and hungry. "Damn straight."

Castiel couldn't drag him back to the motel room fast enough.

…..

It was only minutes later that Castiel was fumbling at the lock. Dean pressed up behind him and layed warm kisses on the back of his neck, making it extremely difficult to concentrate. Finally the door gave way, and they staggered inside, desperately pawing at each other's clothing and struggling to maintain their balance.

Their jackets were the first to go, followed by Castiel's tie, and then the kicking off of shoes. Then Dean peeled off his shirt and, noticing that Castiel was struggling to undo the all the buttons, made short work of Castiel's shirt with one decisive rip. "We'll buy another," he grunted, running his hands down Castiel's abdomen and mouthing his jaw. Castiel groaned in agreement, and pushed Dean onto the bed. He wanted to devour Dean, one burning inch of skin at a time.

Dean fumbled at the button of his pants, and Castiel noticed the trembling in his fingers. He covered Dean's hands with his own and kissed him, soft and reassuring. "We don't have to do this," he murmured. "It can wait."

Dean exhaled shakily. "No, it can't. I want this, Cas, I want you, I love you." He kissed Castiel needfully, fiercely, all teeth and tongue, and ground their hips together. "I love every part of you," he panted, "and I need to show you. I'm gonna take care of you, alright?"

Castiel just kissed him again and moaned into his mouth. The sheer pleasure of feeling Dean's body against his was already jumbling his thoughts. "I – I – yes," he rasped.

"Alright then." Dean took a deep breath and grinned recklessly. "Let's rock n' roll."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Thank you so much to everyone reviewed. You all get Castiels in the mail. You're so awesome. Words cannot express. When I try, it comes out like dnadoiierohgjrjajonva;;lwascdeeticm. _

_ Now for the sad news: This, my friends, is the _last chapter_. Which is why, for a very limited time only, I am offering a very special deal to anyone who reviews: a Castiel AND a Dean Winchester, absolutely free! These prices won't be stay this low forever, folks. Come and get 'em while they're _hot_ *wink*. If you haven't yet done so, and even if you have, please review and let me know what you think. You're all I've got, people. My cats haven't learned to read yet, and I don't exactly pass my slash fiction around at the dinner table. Please fuel my strange addiction to writing stories about a badass hunter necking with an angel and review. _

_So, without further delay, the very... *sob* _last_ chapter.  
_

New A/N: Son of a bitch. _For some reason, the stupid document manager won't let me put a ? and a ! right next to each other; it erases the ! every time I save the document. So, I have to put a weird awkward space between them. So sorry, guys.  
_

* * *

When Sam was mad, he liked to watch the Discovery Channel. It was something he'd picked up at Stanford, and he'd never quite shaken the habit. You just couldn't stay mad when you watched the Discovery Channel. Right now, he was tuning in to "How It's Made" and learning how they make bathtubs. Why? Oh, because his stupid brother had dashed out of the diner after his angel and stiffed him with the bill. That wouldn't have even been so bad, though, on its own; they pretty much shared their money, anyway. It was having to babble a hastily concocted excuse for Dean's absence at a confused teenage girl who had managed to scrounge up a slice of apple pie and heat it up special. _That_ was what put Sam in a bad mood.

By the time he'd gotten outside, the offending pair was long out of sight. Dean had probably chased Castiel all the way back to the motel so he could corner him and force him to accept his apology. Sam had shaken his head and returned to his own room. After stewing for a little and muttering to himself about his assface of a brother, he'd succumbed to the inevitable. He'd kicked back on his bed and turned on the telly, letting the pleasure of absorbing totally useless knowledge placate him.

And now, a couple in the room next door was starting to get frisky, moaning and thumping and just being nuisances. Sam just sighed heavily and turned up the TV. He was used to paper-thin walls and amorous neighbors, but did it have to be _tonight_?

He watched a super-heated sheet of ceramic lower onto a mold. _Ohhhh_, he thought. _So that's how they do it. I will definitely never need to know this. _He basked in contentment.

Unfortunately, that was when the neighbors got _really_ loud, so loud he could make out actual words. And then it got way, way, disgusting because –

Sam recognized the voices.

"Aw FUCK YEAH Cas, right there goddamn RIGHT THERE!"

"Oh God Dean yes, ungh yes OH GOD YES DEEEEAAAN!"

He was going to murder them. Whatever temporary insanity had him to think Dean and Cas shagging would be a good thing quickly evaporated in the face of friggin' nasty reality. The trauma could never be undone. Sam was scarred for life. He turned the TV up to its highest possible volume and prayed it would be over soon. A virgin could only have so much stamina, right?

Well, that "speck" of angel left in Cas must have been concentrated solely in his nether regions, because they were at it for. Goddamn. EVER.

Oh, they were going to die soooo slowly.

…..

Dean and Cas lay splayed on the bed like sweaty, exhausted starfish. Dean's entire body was tingly and numb, like he'd somehow managed to short a circuit. Cas, meanwhile, was pretty much catatonic, glassy-eyed and only able to communicate in monosyllabic grunts. Dean knew it was only a minute before he went completely comatose.

"You're freakin' incredible, you know that?" Dean croaked. "So freakin' awesome."

"Uhnh," Cas grunted.

Dean was more than a little awed by Cas's performance. The dude was a _stallion_. He had some stuff to learn about technique, but the thing was that Cas paid _attention_ and he was a freaking fast learner. And even though yeah, the beginning was rough and kinda awkward, and sex with a dude was hugely different from sex with a chick, they'd _definitely_ gotten the hang of it. It was only going to get better from here.

Plus, if Cas's current state was any indication, Dean hadn't been too shabby himself. He was pretty dang proud of his ability to reduce Cas beyond the power of speech; he chuckled and filled in the blanks for his dumbstruck companion. "I'll take that as a 'Thank you Dean, I enjoyed that as well, you too are an epic sex god.'"

"Uhnhnh," Cas grunted affirmatively.

Dean rolled his head in Cas's direction. "Wanna just lay here for the next week or so?"

Cas's eyes were drooping closed. "Unh," he agreed softly.

With a fantastic summoning of his strength, some might even say superhuman, Dean sat up and retrieved the sheets from where they'd ended up at the foot of the bed and dragged them up over him and Cas. He tucked Cas in carefully, pausing a moment to lean over his sleeping face. Post-coital Cas was too goddamn adorable to be legal, with his pink cheeks and his long friggin' eyelashes and his swollen lips just barely parted. Why had Dean been so terrified, again?

Okay, so he was still kind of nervous about the whole "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family" thing. To be honest, it was going to take a lot more than an epiphany and several shots of Jack before he convinced himself that this Dean-and-Cas thing was going to work out. There was an ever-present hum of anxiety in the back of his mind that he wasn't sure he'd ever be rid of. And yeah, there was a moment there, at the very beginning, where he'd thought he might not be up to this challenge after all. But then he'd taken one look into Cas's trusting, patient, _loving_ eyes and remembered who he was. Gay, straight, bi – didn't matter. He was Dean _Winchester_, dammit, and nothing in heaven or hell or anywhere in between could keep him from what he wanted. And what he wanted was _Cas_.

So Dean got him. Got him so well that the dude was passed out in his bed and totally dead to the world, looking all soft and peaceful and innocently debauched, and totally unlike the serious, intense, holy tax accountant Dean knew him to be. It made him want to do the single most chick-flicky thing he had ever considered doing. He hesitated, uncertain if he could live with himself.

And then Cas started snoring lightly, just the cutest and most angelic little snore in the world.

_Hell, I'm going for it. I, Dean Winchester, am a big friggin' girl and cannot resist. I'll only do it this once. No one ever has to know._

Very gently Dean leaned down and kissed each eyelid, and then pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Night, Cas," he whispered. After a moment, he let the strange new words roll over his tongue. "Love you."

…..

The next day dawned bright and far too early. They peeled themselves out of bed and climbed into the shower (and Dean _tried_ to get to get up to hijinks in there, but even though Cas was clearly enjoying it, he kept batting Dean's hands away and grumbling "Dean. That is _not_ conducive to getting clean," until he finally understood that Dean just did not give a rat's ass about cleanliness and gave in). By the time they managed to get dressed, Dean thought they should spend the day in the motel and make the 3,000 residents of Colfax, Washington deal with their vampire problem for one more measly day, but Cas reminded him that Sam would come looking for them eventually.

So they left the motel room, and Dean pounded on Sam's door. "Rise and shine, Sammy!" he bellowed. "Up an at 'em!"

Sam swung the door open, toothbrush in hand, and _boy_ was he not happy – his face was like a thundercloud. "We are _never_ rooming next to each other. Ever. Again," he barked, and then he slammed the door in Dean's face.

Dean stood there for a second, stunned. "So are you coming to breakfast or not?" he called.

"I'll be out in a minute," was the muffled reply.

"Meet you in the car, then."

Cas was staring at Sam's door, looking slightly perturbed. "He… is upset."

"He's throwing a bitch fit because we got loud last night," Dean explained. He threw an arm around Cas's shoulders and steered him towards the Impala. "Pay him no attention, Cas. Poor, dear Sammy suffers from an acute case of stickuphisass and these outbursts are… only to be expected," he elaborated in a patronizing but apologetic tone. "The only cure is to get laid, which, for Sammy, means that there is no cure. He needs our patience and understanding during this difficult time."

Cas simply looked puzzled and gave a slight nod. Dean knew from experience that that meant Cas had figured out that he was joking, but didn't quite get the joke. Dean grinned and couldn't resist giving him a peck on the cheek. "Don't worry about it. He'll get over it." He crossed over to the driver's side of the Impala and got in.

Just then, Sam jogged over and slid into the back seat. "How come we're taking the car?"

"Well, we can't go back to _that_ diner ever again," Dean answered, nodding towards the diner down the street where they'd met the charming Mandy. "So we gotta cruise around and find a Jack in the Box or something." He turned the key in the ignition.

Foreigner blasted out of the speakers at top volume, making Dean jump a mile high. "FEE-EELS LIKE THE FIIIIIIIIRST TIME! FEE-EELS LIKE THE VERY FIRST TIME! FEE-EELS LIKE THE FIIIIIIIIRST TIME! FEE-EELS LIKE THE VERY FIRST TIME!" He scrambled to crank down the knob, hearing Sam's cackling laughter over the blaring music. Cas, God help him, had jammed himself into the corner between the seat and the door, his eyes like saucers.

"Oh, reeeaaal funny, Sam," Dean seethed, his cheeks hot. "Real mature."

"You – you should see your face!" Sam wheezed, practically doubled over. "Dude, you're bright red, like literally bright red!"

"You seriously got up early just to do that?" Dean demanded.

"No, I did it last _night_," Sam boasted, pleased as punch with himself. "Oh man, I got you so good."

Dean flexed his grip on the steering wheel and threw the Impala into reverse. _You just wait, Sammy. We'll see who gets the last laugh,_ he mentally vowed. _We'll see._

…..

A few days later they were playing the same just-in-case stakeout game they had been a week ago. They'd wiped out the nest of vampires, but it couldn't hurt to make absolutely certain. Cas would have come with them this time, but he'd managed to sprain his wrist, and Dean had argued vehemently against him coming. "Sam and I can handle any leftovers," he'd insisted. "If something does happen, we're better off not having all our eggs in one Impala, anyway. You stay here and swoop in to rescue our sorry asses if we need it, just like old times."

Sam knew that Dean was actually worried that Castiel would seriously screw up his wrist if he came with them, and Sam agreed. The poor guy hadn't had a lifetime's practice of fighting with injuries, and he was more of a liability than anything else if he came with. So here they were, the two Winchester brothers, parked just beyond an old farmhouse in the heat of the afternoon.

Sam was in the back, mainly in the vain hope that it would be cooler if he and Dean weren't sitting in the same seat. All the windows were rolled down, but there was no wind, so it didn't help much. It wasn't even that hot outside, really; it was Washington, after all. It was just that, sitting in direct sunlight, the Impala soaked up the rays like a sponge, and they couldn't turn on the fan for fear of wearing down the battery. So Sam got in the back seat and tried to think cool thoughts.

That didn't work. Sam turned to the next best thing for taking his mind off the heat: getting a rise out of Dean. "So, I'm not sure how to phrase this…" he started.

"What?" Dean asked absently, only half paying attention.

"Well. Just out of curiosity." Sam struggled to keep a perfectly straight, nonchalant face. "Who's pitching and who's catching?"

The reaction was just as overblown as he'd hoped. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? !" Dean exploded, yanking his upper body around so he could give Sam the full force of his livid glare. "Just out of _curiosity_? !"

"So you're catching," Sam deadpanned. And the grossness of contemplating that idea was _so_ worth the steam that you could practically see coming out of Dean's ears. The man was going to pop one of those bulgy veins in his forehead if he wasn't careful.

"I AM – Wait a minute." Dean narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusing finger. "I see what you're doing. Tryin' to get me to say one way or the other." His lip curled in a sneer. "Well, I won't give you the satisfaction. I'm not playing your little head games, Sammy boy."

Sam rolled his eyes as if he couldn't care less. "Whatever, Dean. You don't have to defend your uber-masculinity to me. I'm pretty sure it's just as gay either way."

Dean opened his mouth to retort something, and then suddenly he stopped and closed it again. A small, smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hey Sammy," he began coolly, tilting his head just slightly like an interesting thought had occurred to him. "Remember the last time we were on stakeout?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah. That was like a week ago."

Dean pursed his lips a little. "Remember what we talked about?" And then he threw a significant look at the seat, and looked back at Sam.

A creeping horror was growing in Sam's chest. No. They wouldn't. They couldn't. "You didn't," he breathed.

Dean smirked an evil, cocky smirk and simply replied, "Wouldn't you like to know." And then he turned to face forward towards the farmhouse again, smiling to himself.

"Dean. _Dean_." Sam clutched the back of Dean's seat, and his voice rose in panic. "Did you and Cas do it in the back seat? _Did you and Cas do it in the back seat where I'm sitting?__ !_ ANSWER ME!"

Dean just grinned and chuckled to himself. "He he he."

"_SON OF A BITCH!_"

…..

THE END.

* * *

A/N: _Thank you, everyone, for reading. You make it all worthwhile. I think this is it for this particular series; I've been tossing around ideas for a non-romantic story along the lines of "Three Dudes and a Baby," which is exactly what it sounds like, or I might cook up something else. If you have any particular requests, feel free to throw them my way, and I'll give 'em a look-see. Finally, as my parting gift to you, I have found the ultimate song that sums up Cas's slash love for Dean. Look it up and be blown away. It's called "F.N.T." (which stands for Fascinating New Thing) by Semisonic, and I first heard it in _Ten Things I Hate About You_. Someone _please_ make a Dean/Cas YouTube video to this song and send me the link. The lyrics are so utterly perfect. _"I'm surprised that you've never been told before/ that you're lovely/ and you're perfect/ and that somebody wants you... Fascinating new thing..."


End file.
